On Anti-Biotics. Again.
I woke up this morning to discover that my right eyelid had been glued shut by a discharge from in the night that had caked on my eyelashes and stuck them together. Lovely. When I went into the bathroom and cleaned the gunk off my eyelashes, so I could look in my eye, I found that it was rather pinkish-red, my left eye a little less so. Brilliant. And my sinuses are still manufacturing vast quantities of stuff that looks like it should be used for grouting bathroom tile. Or fending off terrorists who are afraid of icky things.
Blergh.
So I called the doctor's office, which I should have done either yesterday or Wednesday, to see if he could fit me in today, only to discover that this isn't one of the Saturdays when he keeps hours. I called the on-call number instead and got a call back from a rather youngish-sounding doctor named Amber (upon which Chris declared that ALL doctors should have geological names, even though our regular doctor is named Harry). Anyway. She decided that I have a sinus infection, which I guess I knew as long ago as last Monday, but I was in denial, and now that it has progressed farther than any sinus infection I've ever had I'm on a five-day course of anti-biotics and am supposed to also continue using the over-the-counter stuff to relieve my symptoms (because that's all those drugs treat--symptoms, not the underlying cause of the symptoms). She didn't prescribe it but I'm also ordering myself to use vast quantities of tissues to relieve certain symptoms. Because I really have no choice about that part.
I'm definitely not going anywhere anytime soon. I managed to go to work on Thursday to a) meet the alarm company guy, who had to tweak our system to keep it from squealing at random times for no good reason; b) to produce a Sunday bulletin; c) to produce the announcements for the Sunday bulletin; and c) to produce a March newsletter. All of which I did, in 4.5 hours. I've mailed myself the newsletter files and will do the work necessary later to create the online version of the newsletter, upload those files, update the blog with the info that the newsletter is online, send out an email about the blog being updated and the newsletter being online, and then collapse again.
I've done no editing, writing or footnoting since Tuesday. I've got scenes from the book that's in the planning stages running around my brain and no time or energy to type them up, or even write them out in longhand. I haven't even progressed further in my viewing of The West Wing, which is a pretty passive activity. Last night Chris, Rachel and I watched Trainspotting, which I'm not really certain is a recommended activity in my condition. I finally finished the first Chrestomanci book, which is written on something like a third-grade reading level, and am not quite feeling up to reading the sequel right now.
Feeling kind of pathetic.
Please send brain cells.
Thank you.
Blergh.
So I called the doctor's office, which I should have done either yesterday or Wednesday, to see if he could fit me in today, only to discover that this isn't one of the Saturdays when he keeps hours. I called the on-call number instead and got a call back from a rather youngish-sounding doctor named Amber (upon which Chris declared that ALL doctors should have geological names, even though our regular doctor is named Harry). Anyway. She decided that I have a sinus infection, which I guess I knew as long ago as last Monday, but I was in denial, and now that it has progressed farther than any sinus infection I've ever had I'm on a five-day course of anti-biotics and am supposed to also continue using the over-the-counter stuff to relieve my symptoms (because that's all those drugs treat--symptoms, not the underlying cause of the symptoms). She didn't prescribe it but I'm also ordering myself to use vast quantities of tissues to relieve certain symptoms. Because I really have no choice about that part.
I'm definitely not going anywhere anytime soon. I managed to go to work on Thursday to a) meet the alarm company guy, who had to tweak our system to keep it from squealing at random times for no good reason; b) to produce a Sunday bulletin; c) to produce the announcements for the Sunday bulletin; and c) to produce a March newsletter. All of which I did, in 4.5 hours. I've mailed myself the newsletter files and will do the work necessary later to create the online version of the newsletter, upload those files, update the blog with the info that the newsletter is online, send out an email about the blog being updated and the newsletter being online, and then collapse again.
I've done no editing, writing or footnoting since Tuesday. I've got scenes from the book that's in the planning stages running around my brain and no time or energy to type them up, or even write them out in longhand. I haven't even progressed further in my viewing of The West Wing, which is a pretty passive activity. Last night Chris, Rachel and I watched Trainspotting, which I'm not really certain is a recommended activity in my condition. I finally finished the first Chrestomanci book, which is written on something like a third-grade reading level, and am not quite feeling up to reading the sequel right now.
Feeling kind of pathetic.
Please send brain cells.
Thank you.